Deadly Secret
by Pyrate Rose
Summary: RogerApril story focusing on how they got HIV. Did he give it to her or the other way around? One Shot for SpeedRent.


"Erickson, April?" called a nurse from the doorway. She stood on shaky legs and walked down the hallway, with each step forward it seemed like she was moving a mile backward. Finally she made it to the exam room and took a seat on the table. "The doctor will be in shortly," the nurse informed her before leaving her alone to think in the silent, sterile room.

Roger stared at himself in the mirror. His face was lined and his eyes were glazed. Who was this man? What had happened to the pretty boy front man? Roger Davis had been invincible at one time. Now--his eyes traced the track marks on his arms; scars of his wasted life. Where would he be now if he'd never taken that first hit? Where would his beautiful April be?

"The results came back from the lab this morning Miss Erickson." The doctor said, checking his clipboard and avoiding her pleading gaze.

"And---what does it say?" she asked. The doctor took an excruciatingly long time to unfold the paper and hand it to her. She waited with bated breath before biting her lip and looking down at the white form in her shaking fingers. There, in small black letters were the words "PATIENT: _Erickson, April. TEST: HIV/AIDS. RESULTS: Positive."_

He had contracted it from that girl at the club two months ago. Her name was--well--he didn't remember, and it didn't really matter. What did matter was that he had shared needles with her and fucked her three times that night. He had cheated on April. He had gotten HIV. Not only that, but he had passed it on to April before he'd known he was positive. She was out right now, getting groceries, she'd said. And when she came back, he would have to sit her down and tell her the truth. She was facing a death sentence because of a mistake he had made. Her life was over and it was his fault.

She had contracted it from The Man, a few weeks ago. She needed the smack--Roger needed the smack--that was how she justified it. She had followed him back to the alley across from the Cat Scratch Club and let him undress her. Let him press her against the wall. Let him take her body as payment for the drugs. Now here she was, slouched over on a cold metal table, sobs wracking her body. How was she going to tell Roger? Roger…she gasped in realization. The needles she'd shared with him since then! Had she infected him too?

Roger collapsed into his bed, fear converted to exhaustion, and let his eyes drift shut. He'd tell April in the morning. While Mark was out filming in the park.

April cautiously and quietly slipped into the bathroom of the loft and dug through the medicine cabinet frantically until she found what she was looking for: Roger's razorblades. She started the bathwater calmly and prepared a needle full of the smack she'd bought from The Man on the way home and injected it into her vein before climbing into the tub. She held the razor tentatively and studied it, everything magnified by her high. As if hypnotized, she took the blade and ran it slowly across her wrist, applying pressure and sighing as she felt the pain seep through her body. She quickly did the same to the other wrist and watched the water turn red before her eyes. Eyes that slowly drifted closed for the last time.

"ROGER!" came a shriek from outside his bedroom door. Roger bolted upright and stumbled outside to find Mark supporting himself on the bathroom door frame and dry heaving above a puddle of vomit.

"What---! What's going on!" he shouted. "Mark! What happened!" he asked.

"A--April…She's---Roger she's---"

"She's what! Mark! She's what!" Roger demanded. When Mark didn't--couldn't--answer him, he pushed past him into the bathroom and deadpanned. His breath caught in his throat and his heart pounded against his ribcage at what he saw.

April's body lay limp in the ceramic tub, her wrists draped in a gruesomely graceful fashion over the sides of the tub. The water was a deep red and her eyes were closed peacefully. On the mirror was a yellow sticky note with three little words:

**We've Got Aids.**

Roger collapsed.


End file.
